(feat. Hi-C, Shyheim Da Kid, Talib Kweli)

"The following presentation is rated R."


[Hi-C] [vocals being scratched]
Uhh! God damn! Yeah!


[Hi-C]
This my ^!$$% DJ mother$#&@in Quik

We gon' take this %#@! back to the Mixmaster days
and put it all in your jawmeat
and wiggle it around a little bit, hahaha

YouknowhatI'msayin? Party favors ^!$$%
Ahh yeah, y'all need a couple of 'em
We ain't playin witcho' (*##$-ass either

YouknowhatI'msayin? ^!$$%z try to walk the walk, talk the talk
But that bull%#@! ain't nothin man [scratches]
I said that bull%#@! ain't nothin man!

[scratches:] "aw, ^!$$%z, ^!$$%z.."
^!$$%z can't do what we do {"NO"}
{*"Bull%#@! ain't nothin man!"*}

Damn; so what you need to do.. is.. {"stop stop stop stop STOP!"}
.. shut the $#&@ up and listen for a minute {"Listen!"}
Pay attention - might learn somethin {"Now LISTEN!"}

Don't you carry yo' $$# in the studio $#&@in wit dem boys neither
or they put knots all UPSIDE ya mother$#&@in head with the beats!
That's my ^!$$% Q.. I call him..

{"Quik, Quik-Quik, Q-Quik, Quik-Quik"}
Quik-a-lodeon {"Too Quik!"}
Yeah.. huh? Yeah.. {"Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik-Quik"}

Talk.. {"Mother$#&@in Quik"} spit it
Yeah.. ooh! Haha, yeah


Now off of two-fifths of drank (drank drank)
They got yo' boy lookin for a (*##$ to spank (spank spank)
Baby you can kick it but ya sister cain't (nah nah)

Runnin 'round smellin like a septic tank (ewwwahh)
Girl you need to stop you know your $$# is stank (stank stank)
Runnin 'round beggin all the baller for bank (bank bank)

Tryin to hit a lick but like that you cain't (nah nah)
Cause everytime your $$# come around I faint (wooo!)
People get to passin out;

I'ma give you one more chance but yo' $$# is out
Now don't you bring yo' $$# back smellin like raw trout (trout)
Cause everytime I see you I'ma bust you out!

(Here she come, look out!)
And you ^!$$%z with the demos (demos)
Man you just as bad as dem hoes (hoes)

Talkin bout your record comin out (out out)
But you need to put some gum in your mouth (hell yes)
Cause before I hear you rhyme or you get a beat from Quik


[Shyheim Da Kid]
Yo yo this Shyheim, and y'all can suck my DICK!

Son you owe me, $#&@ the dough I want it in blood
You was my homey, showed me nuttin but thug love
Put me on to the game, bought me my first chain

Let me ride shotgun, in your Benz and Range
I'm thinkin how this big ^!$$% gon', go against the grain
Hit him up when it's foggy outside, about to rain

It's about to rain teflon cop-killers
But we ride teflon can't-stop-killers
I thought you was fam 'til you switched the love

Now you, rich and $#&@, you forget the thug?
Heard you on the radio, but I ain't get no plug
And if you come around the way, I should get you stuck

I wish you luck, I'ma make you kiss the gun
And I ain't gon' stop until my justice done
What you wanna be labelled as, a coward or a duck?

What powder you cut, you wanted that building for what?
When you rep that building, what you said for that building
If it wasn't for me, you woulda been DEAD in that building

You don't know what it feel like to say I own that building
Get dough in that building, or control that building
You don't know that feeling, you ain't condone that killing

Cause when the cops came, you was like, "Shy in that building"
I remember the days when you was shook in them buildings
You in front of these buildings, frontin like you build them
When Scrams was home, you was on his dick
And you gave that (*##$ money cause you always been a trick

You know Shy Da Kid, I'm back on the block
Bought the crack in the spot, spit back in the block
$#&@in clap at the cops, if I'm rappin or not
Whatchu gon' do ^!$$%? Shoot or get shot
I'm hot on the block like new glocks out the box

All y'all fulla dope, at the bow(?) .. what?

[Talib Kweli]
Yeah yeah.. yo
Kweli, I'm rock this body and so forth and so on

You can get the dick, one to grow on or one to blow on
Bet you Quik get his dough on, I spit kick the flow on
Got swift %#@! I throw on, cause I'ma leave what I float on
Plus I get my roll on like Baby and Mannie Fresh
After I go on y'all ^!$$%z'll never bust like tantric sex

The universal ^!$$% that represent the planet best
How I manifest from Brooklyn to Los Angeles - people!
We hold this down like wherever you're from
Got my name all in your mouth like you pierced your tongue
Pimped the game so hard we leave them !@^%s numb
The more I come, Kweli, I'm bout to blow like George Young

I'm the Don Cheadle of rap, dope like arms and needles of crack
My lyrics attack and arm the people like gats
In Cali studios we rest the heat up on the console
Peep Hollywood ^!$$%z who think it's sweet like Comanco
Claimin they gangster and street like they lookin for beef
But with a gun in they teeth they just MC's lookin for beats
Y'all don't want trouble, we pop bubbles and flex muscle

^!$$%z don't respect the lyrics, they respect your hustle
The industry is like Kinko's, makin copies while you wait
And the people always scream for NEW !#@(, like Clue tapes
Y'all speed this in your face, slow down like Screw tape
Cause as long as you rockin with Quik, ^!$$% you straight